


keep your promises, pay your dues

by Sunnystar



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Adult Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Complicated Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, References to Depression, Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)-centric, Skull is basically everyone's wife at different times, Skull is sick and his wellbeing is connected to the rest, Skull needs a hug, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Unhealthy Relationships, Whump, the last bit just refers to Skull being afraid of literally everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27239050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnystar/pseuds/Sunnystar
Summary: The curse doesn’t change them into children, but it does put all of their lives in the hands of their weakest member.  Skull’s death will directly trigger the rest of Arcobalenos’.So Skull splits his days with the seven of them, as a prized prisoner and something of a kept man.
Relationships: Arcobaleno & Arcobaleno (Kateyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno & Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno/Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno/Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Comments: 164
Kudos: 478
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Amazing Fics that make me feel things, I Found These Masterpieces And Fell In Love, If there's none I'LL write the world building, Ongoing/Incomplete, Secondary Character Focus, To reread: Polyamory, stuff i read when im depressed





	1. il ragazzo maledetto (the cursed boy)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Skull and the No-Good, Very Bad Dates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16681756) by [khthonicEcho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khthonicEcho/pseuds/khthonicEcho). 



> I've been having some writers block with my other stories, and I'm completely addicted to Skull's interactions with the other Arcobalenos, so when I realised how little there was to read, I decided to write something.
> 
> (I'm a big believer of the 'if you can't find it, write it!')
> 
> See the notes at the end for clarification (if necessary).

The curse is supposed to hurt them, the curse is supposed to turn them into babies, as Checkerface later mentions, but when it comes time to change, Skull is the only one that’s screaming. It’s like he’s choking to death, and he’s so certain he’s going to die there, at seventeen-

Only to wake up in Giglio Nero’s nearest manse, throat bandaged and in an IV line stuck into the crook of his left elbow.

He wakes up in incredible pain and in confusion, and the moment he does, the convulsions begin.

It’s terrifying, to lose control of your body, and the IV line is ripped out of him, and he silently keens in pain. His vision is blurring and everything seems too loud, too harsh, too distant-

He doesn’t know how long he lingers there, unseeing and unfeeling, but when he comes to, it’s to see the other Arcobaleno surrounding him. Reborn is slowly threading yellow Flames into him, eyes narrowed in focus, and Luce’s normally serene face seems pale and pained. They’re the only two he can focus on, his mind bleary and unfocused.

His finger twitches and Viper hands him a glass of water. It’s harsh against his torn throat, and he can barely lift it up. His fingers are trembling by the end of it.

“What happened?” He asked, voice raw and unsteady. “I was screaming-“ faint, terrifying recollections of pain, and he flinches, drawing in a sharp breath.

“The curse…it…changed.” Luce begins with that, hands settled on her large stomach.

“The curse?”

“The strongest seven maintain the balance of the world, the Tri-ni-sette so that the world keeps turning. Our part of that was to be frozen in time as children, to walk the world unaged and unaging.” Luce bits her lip, frustrated, ignoring the bitterly angry looks that the others give her.

Luce stares into Skull’s eyes, unseeing yet piercing.

“Except this generation has a new aspect. Instead of reverting to children unaged, we have stayed adults. We still probably won’t age, but-”

She swears, suddenly and fiercely in Italian.

“Instead,” Verde continues like this was a planned interruption, “all of our life forces are linked.” Skull blinks in slight confusion.

“But isn’t that what harmonization is, anyway?” His question is scratchy and low, and Reborn ups his flames. They’re on the edge of being far too hot, but he doesn’t complain.

“Yes, and no. Harmonization is more that you become more powerful among your companions, and sometimes a bit like marriage. It’s a complex relationship, but ours is more extreme. If one of us dies, the others will follow.” Skull parses through this information, mind whirling.

“But then…why was I…” Luce grimaces, and Viper gives him a blank, terrifying smile.

“You’re the most affected because the balance is uneven. If one of us dies, we still have time to find a replacement, no matter how painful. You die, and we’re all dead.”

Skull freezes, his mind blanking out.

“Viper-” Luce begins, tone disapproving, and Viper shakes their head, angrily.

“It’s better for him to have all the facts so he doesn’t do something stupid!” Viper cried out. “He’s going to get himself killed-”

And this led to everyone speaking up at the same time.

“You don’t _know that-_ ”

“Lackey has to-”

“Well, the solution would be-”

“But how are we going to _do anything at all_ , kora-”

“I don’t want to hear it from you, _Luce_ -“

“It’s a most complex situation, we have to-”

Skull’s head swam, and he felt vaguely nauseous. He pinched his nose, gagging.

The arguing didn’t stop, and he tried to catch _someone’s_ attention. He batted at the air, trying to get them to stop.

Something rose up in his throat, sickening-

But Reborn shot at Verde, who’s eyes flashed green and everything devolved into a brawl, and Skull’s head felt like it was splitting open.

He couldn’t stop coughing, there was something stuck in his throat-

“Wait, lackey-”

And then he spit out blood, and his head felt heavy again-

_“Skull!”_

The room was charred in placed and smelled like gunpowder and blood. Skull’s face was devoid of make-up, yet chalky-white anyway from illness. The Giglio Nero healer was slowly healing the remaining damage in his body as the others watched with anxious eyes.

“We cannot keep doing this.” They turned to the usually placid Storm. Fon was frowning, eyes worried.

Viper smiled, bitterly. “Do what? Argue? It’s not us unless we argue about everything.”

Fon exhaled softly. “If we cannot stay together without arguing then we should not stay together. We are harmonized, but we have always been in discord. Our increased aggressions only make Skull’s condition worse.”

“We can’t leave lackey here. He’ll get himself and the rest of us killed with that _damned_ bike of his.”

“We could draw up a calendar, seeing who can take care of him.” Luce’s eyes were shadowed. “He will die within a year if he isn’t under constant supervision.”

Viper bit back their knee-jerk instinct to flee from the room. “So we just…watch over him? For how long?” _Who is going to pay, what’s worth this_ , they think absentmindedly, focused on the prone body of their youngest element.

“As long as it takes,” Verde intoned, exhausted. “Skull’s condition is too precarious right now for him to even consider moving, so Luce will have to take the first watch. I will also stay because I need to find a solution to Skull’s depressed immunity. A common cold could kill him off right now.” Lal grimaced.

“We have jobs though. Most of which…” She trailed off, trying to imagine Skull at CEDEF and shuddering slightly.

“Well, it’s obvious that there won’t be a regular schedule. There will be jobs that change yearly, so the order will change as well.”

“Having a regular schedule is dangerous anyway, kora. We’re better off going with the flow so no one can pin a pattern and attack, “ Colonnello chimed in. 

“Indeed.” The room was still tensed, Viper flipping through the medically reports idly as the rest tried to not look at the sickly boy or at each other.

“This is going to go great,” they muttered. “This isn’t going to go wrong _at all._ "

Skull feels cold. The cold is a trigger to his awareness, and then he opens his eyes.

Everything feels heavy, and he’s alone in the hospital room. He slowly helps himself upright, wincing as his back spasmed.

God, he had to pee. He screwed up his face and slowly moved his legs to dangle over the edge of the bed, over the railing. He clutches at the blankets, wincing as his toes touch the cold floors. He shudders, gripping at the handle as he stares blankly at the door. The bathroom must be past that, but he can barely muster up the strength to even take a step.

He sighs, before summoning the strength. IV line holder in one hand, pressed against the wall, he slowly makes his way out the door, legs trembling in every step, and he finds the bathroom to the left of the bedroom.

He lowers himself slowly, taking care of his business, but his eyes catch on the mirror, and he drinks in himself. He’s wearing no make-up, so he can see the dark circles and the waxy, unhealthy tint of his skin, the bandages still wrapped around his body. He swallows, eyes growing damp.

What has he gotten himself into? He touches his lips, red and raw, when he stumbles, knocking into the side shelf.

“Skull! Skull, where are you-” Colonnello knocks on the door, and Skull winces.

“I’m inside,” he calls out, voice hoarse.

“Hurry up and come out then, kora!” He slowly moves towards the door, to see a glaring Colonnello.

“Um. Can you-” The blonde man moves out of the way, eyes unreadable as Skull slowly steps out, pressed against the wall. His legs are shaking badly, but he grits his teeth and slowly moves forward, breathing heavily from the exertion. He takes another minuscule step forward, and Colonnello snorts.

“God, here-” And Skull flinches back, losing his step and falling back when two strong arms catch him, holding him under the middle of his back and under his thighs.

“You’re so careless, kora.” Colonnello grumbles. “Hold onto the IV line, I’m taking you back to your bed.” Skull grips the handle and they slowly move, and Skull slowly un-tenses as Colonnello settles him back onto his bed. They are both silent as Colonnello pulls the sheets up around Skull.

“Thanks,” he mutters. Colonnello says nothing as he leaves the room.

He falls asleep within seconds.

The next few days are blurred. He sleeps a lot, only waking to eat and use the restroom. He sees people sitting by his bed, but he is too out of it to really care.

But he gets better, and he nearly cries when he can walk to the restroom by himself without being exhausted.

Things get marginally better until everything goes downhill.

The realization that he’s never going to be able to ride his bike again comes loud and clear when Viper snaps at him when he mentions a cool stunt he used to do, something he wants to work on in the future.

“It’s too risky, idiot! You won’t be able to-” Viper stops themselves, a moment too late.

His face must drop, or something because Viper suddenly looks uncomfortable, and an uncomfortable Viper is an upset Viper, and they snarl before leaving the room, and Skull feels something wet drip down his face.

 _Oh._ He’s _crying_.

ʷ̢͖͙ʰ̢͕͜ʸ̢͖ ⁱ͓̦ˢ̦̠ ʰ̞̘͓ᵉ̝̦͜ ᶜ͎̙̟ʳ̢͙̺ʸ͍̙ⁱ̡͕ⁿ̼̞ᵍ͕͚, ʷ̢͖͙ʰ̢͕͜ʸ̢͖ ⁱ͓̦ˢ̦̠ ʰ̞̘͓ᵉ̝̦͜ ᶜ͎̙̟ʳ̢͙̺ʸ͍̙ⁱ̡͕ⁿ̼̞ᵍ͕͚-

Why is he…why is he _crying_?

It’s not like he’s dead, or something. It’s not like...

It’s not he’s an invalid, it’s not like-

He presses his hands into his face and he begins to quietly sob.

There’s nothing really...

He’s fine...

His entire life…is falling apart, and the rest of them...

ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉᵃˡ ʷⁱᵗʰ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʷʰʸ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘʳᵈᵉⁿ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿˡʸ?

ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵃⁱʳ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵃⁱʳ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ⁻

ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ⸴ ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ⸴ ʰᵒʷ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ-

ᴵ̓̓͠ᵗ̐̐͝'̐͋͝ˢ̈́͑͠ ⁿ̓̚͝ᵒ͛̓͒ᵗ̓͘ ᶠ̈́̈́͠ᵃ͆̕̕ⁱ͑͆͠ʳ̓͐͝⸴̾͆͝ ⁱ͊͆͝ᵗ͒̈́͘'̓͆̕ˢ͆̓͝ ⁿ͐͝ᵒ̽̒̐ᵗ͑͊͠ ᶠ͆͊ᵃ̾̓̓ⁱ̈́͆̐ʳ̈́̓̿⸴͘̚͝ ⁱ̔͌͆ᵗ͊͐'͌͘͠ˢ͌̔͝ ⁿ̽̓͝ᵒ̈́͘͠ᵗ̐̓̓⁻͋̈́

He imagines sensation fo flying through the air on his custom bike, the way he could flip off mid-ride, the exhilaration of flying through flaming hoops. He imagines the way it felt to press the accelerator and speed off with no regard for safety-

And then he thinks about how he can never feel that way again.

ʰ̫̼̪ᵒ̦̼̠ʷ̘̞͇ ᵈ̫͖̦ᵃ͙͔ʳ͖̠̝ᵉ͕͉̼ ᵗ̼̝ʰ̢̦̼ᵉ̟̻̠ʸ̡̙⸴̢̼͜ ʰ̠͓͕ᵒ͖̝̼ʷ͎͙̞ ᵈ̙̘̪ᵃ̦̙ʳ̠͔̠ᵉ͖̫̻ ᵗ̼̪ʰ̠͓̺ᵉ̪̺͓ʸ̢̦⸴̦͕͉ ʰ͕͎̝ᵒ̢͎͔ʷ̻̫͓ ᶜ͉̟͙ᵒ̪͉̞ᵘ̺̦̪ˡ͓͜ᵈ̼͚͔ ᵗ̡͙ʰ̡̦̻ᵉ̙͎̟ʸ̢̢̪

ⁱ͋̚͝ ʷ͆͐ᵃ̔͊͝ⁿ͛̈́ᵗ̒̐̈́ ᵗ͊͝ᵒ͊͛̈́ ᵈ̔̽̒ⁱ̈́͠ᵉ͆̿͐

'͆͝ᵐ͒̓͠ ᵈ̈́̕ʳᵒ͐͋̐ʷ̒̓͝ⁿ͑͘ⁱ̈́̽̓ⁿ̈́͐̿ᵍ͋̐͝

ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵐᵉ

He’s unresponsive for the next four days, practically catatonic.

He wakes up, feeling numb and not a little broken, and his fellow Arcobaleno flinch at the sight of him.


	2. la materia grigia (the gray matter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Skull, you cannot continue like this.” He whines under his breath, upset.
> 
> Verde inhales deeply, before pulling Skull close into a sort of embrace. It’s too tight and Skull’s skin feels raw.

He’s informed about how he will stay with the other Arcobaleno for the foreseeable future, and he accepts it with a number sort of weariness.

Everyone is a bit careful with him, probably because sometimes he still coughs up blood.

His eyes also look very, very dead, as far as he can tell, and normal Skull would’ve tried to fix that, but as he is now, he can’t quite muster up the energy to care. He spends a lot of time staring blankly at the ceiling, ignoring what those around him are saying.

It must be really annoying to be around him.

But it doesn’t really matter anyway, does it? Skull is sick, and Skull can’t make his own decisions, so he’ll let everyone else maneuver him.

He doesn’t care, after all.

He doesn’t really care about anything right now.

(Maybe that’s why there are no sharp objects left around him.

He feels almost offended- he’s not going to end his life. After all, there are people linked to his own life, and he’s not going to be responsible for their deaths.)

Most of the other leave for their (illegal) jobs (because the Underworld is a churning, ugly place where absences can mean replacement, the permanent type) but Skull is set to stay at Luce’s until his health is less precarious. He actually expected this, because Luce is both heavily pregnant, slightly guilty, and ready to mother someone at any given time.

What does surprise him, honestly, is that Verde is sticking around.

Verde is…hard for him to understand. Checkerface brought him in two years ago to meet with the rest of the Arcobalenos, but even then, he could see the visible divide between Verde and the rest. The only one who sat close to Verde was Viper.

Verde has always held himself at an arm’s length, and Skull…kind of understands.

For someone like Verde, who was smart and able to make lightning-quick decisions and connect facts just like that, the rest of them must seem boring and dull in comparison. Viper, in that regard, must’ve been slightly better because they had all sorts of information lodged into their head.

In any case, Verde was staying, and Skull knew it was because of him.

Verde came around once or twice a day, at least, to draw blood or force-feed him a pill or two. The room was always quiet during this because Skull still slept through most of the day and Verde was too busy fixing whatever was going on with his body.

Eventually, the scientist diagnosed it as a sort of autoimmune disease that was always present. When put under stress, the illness would start shutting down his organs, and he’d die of organ failure.

For someone who grew up on the streets, and then in the circus, for someone whose livelihood was based on the state of his body…this was incredibly upsetting.

Skull knew he'd never been the most healthy- he looked older than he actually was from years of stress, and the only reason he probably survived his hellish childhood was, according to Verde, because he instinctively propagated bone and muscle tissue. It was an unorthodox response born out of desperation, and probably the reason he couldn’t visualize the purple flames as he was supposed to.

And the weirdest part, for him, was how he could still be considered the strongest Cloud if he could barely walk on bad days.

The Underworld was _wild._

Eventually, though, maybe a few weeks after the curse, Skull realized that it couldn’t go on this way. He was depressed, certainly, but more importantly, he was bored, his mind rebelling from the lack of stimulation. And as his usual outlets were out, he had to find something else interesting.

So he gets up at walks two feet out the door, before turning around and crumbling back into the bed.

Stimulation be damned, he doesn’t want to do anything. He doesn’t want to exist.

On the better days, he stumbles into the kitchen and lets Luce sit with him.

He still can’t talk to her, or hear her talk, but...

It’s a slow-going process because sometimes the anger rises in him and he wants- he wants to lash out at her, because this is her fault, entirely, this is her fault-

**ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ˢᵗᵒˡᵉⁿ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵐʸ**

**ʸ̓̔͝ᵒ͌͋̓ᵘ̀̽̕'̀͛̈́ᵛ̐̕ᵉ́͐͝ ˢ̈́͆̿ᵗ͆̈́͊ᵒ̐̒͝ˡ̐̈́̾ᵉ́͐ⁿ̓͊͋ ᵃ͒̕ʷ̔͠ᵃ̒͑͝ʸ͋̕ ᵐ̾͠ʸ͌͆ ᶠ̐̓ ʳ̐̓̈́ ᵉ͌̔͠ ᵉ̐͛̚ ᵈ̀͠͝ ᵒ̾̔͘ ᵐ͒͌͒**

But he always gets up and leaves, ignoring the dejected look on her face, because he’s liable to break something if he doesn’t.

He didn’t know it was possible to be this angry, this furious. He didn’t know before that he could be incredibly numb while r aging inside. He breaks a mirror before he begins crying, thumb catching on the glass pieces and distorting his image-

Verde is the one who finds him curled up on the floor, bloodied and unresponsive, and all he does is sigh before bandaging the tips of his fingers.

Those first few weeks he walks around as a ghost, half dead and untethered. Verde forces him to take his pills, forces him to shower and change clothes, forces him to wash his face even when he doesn’t want to, and he hates-

**ᵗʰᵉᵐ⁻**

**ʰᵃᵗᵉˢ ʰᵉʳ⁻**

**ʰᵃᵗᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⁻**

**ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵘᵖ⸴ ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵘᵖ⸴ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ⁻**

**ˢ̒̐͝ʰ́͑̈́ᵘ̈́͝͝ᵗ̀͋͒ ᵘ̓̾͌ᵖ͌̚͘**

**ˢ̐̽̓ʰ̈́͘͠ᵘ͋͊̕ᵗ͐̕̕ ᵘ̾̽́ᵖ͊̕͠**

**ˡ̽̐̕ᵉ͌̓͝ᵃ̾͐̚ᵛ͒̿͐ᵉ̀͐̿ ᵐ̓͋͘ᵉ́͌͘ ᵃ͒̿̕ˡ͋͛̾ᵒ͌̓̕ⁿ̒̽͊ᵉ͐̕͘⁻̐͛̾**

Verde ends up dragging him to his laboratory, the one that Luce set up for him ages ago. The green-haired man bundles him up in blankets and sets him down on a nice leather arm-chair, and Skull can’t help but be a little thankful for his attentions.

Verde might just care about him because of the curse, but even so, it feels nice to be cared for.

He ends up falling asleep in the laboratory, waking up when Verde’s machinery gets too loud or when Verde inevitably slumps down on the floor next to him from exhaustion.

Verde doesn’t really understand the idea of moderation and thinks of his sleep cycle as if it’s some mythological beast that doesn’t exist, so it’s very common for the man to pass out at random intervals.

But the moments where he’s awake and not doing science-y stuff, Verde talks to him. Or at him, rather.

It’s not speeches or anything, but it will be a stray comment or two, slightly biting, sometimes funny, sometimes insulting, and Skull…likes it. He likes listening to the man, likes hearing him speak. Verde knows Italian, so that’s what he usually speaks, but sometimes he’ll murmur something in Spanish under his breath, husky and rapid, and Skull likes that.

It’s one of those days when Verde says something mildly insulting about his ability to read, to which Skull angrily retorts, “It’s not my fault that the circus didn’t have an educational system, damn it.”

This makes Verde freeze up before pinning him with his eyes, lens making the mad scientist seem not a little eerie. And crazy, very crazy.

“Are you saying…that you’ve never had formal schooling? At all?” Skull curls further into the thick comforter, grumbling. He regrets revealing that particular bit of information already.

“Skull.” Verde is suddenly a lot closer to him, kneeling in front of him. “Answer me.”

Skull glares at him before turning his head away, but the scientist grabs him by the shoulders. “ **Skull**.”

And Skull _explodes_.

“So what if I’ve never been to school? It’s not like it really mattered in the circus! I could read well enough and it’s not like I needed to…like I needed to know how to do much! I’m a stuntman, Verde, I don’t need-” He trails off, face crumpling at the intense grief in his chest.

He starts again, voice very small. “It’s not like I ever needed to know much. All I ever wanted was to perform.” He closes his eyes, trying to fold into himself.

Verde is silent, and the room is tense.

“Skull…” the man begins, before he stops. Skull keeps his eyes closed, pulling his hands towards his face so he can hide the tears slowly trailing down.

“That’s why you mess up with Italian, don’t you?” Verde muses as if he’s found the answer to a confusing problem. Skull doesn’t make a sound, and Verde sighs.

“Skull, look at me.” He shakes his head, still looking down. “Skull.”

“You just have to find something else. Other than the stunts.”

“But I don’t _want_ to-”

“Your health is far too delicate for that, and if you get into an accident of any sort…Skull, the only reason you survived this curse was because of your Cloud abilities and your own stubbornness. But right now, you are destroying yourself.”

Skull stays silent.

“Skull, you cannot continue like this.” He whines under his breath, upset.

Verde inhales deeply, before pulling Skull close into a sort of embrace. It’s too tight and Skull’s skin feels raw.

“You are aware that we can feel how miserable you are, correct?” The cursed pacifier hanging on Verde’s neck digs into his chest, and Skull shudders with a repressed sob.

“Stop projecting your misery. It is upsetting.” He doesn’t say anything else, just stays there, stiffly hugging the Cloud Arcobaleno as the smaller man sobbed into his chest, feeling too trapped and too small to even consider breaking away.

The next day, he wakes up to see that the table next to his bed is stacked with a few thin books, a few of them for children. He knocks them onto the floor, letting out a few screams of inarticulate rage.

And then he slowly gets down from the bed and picks them up. He chooses the thinnest out of the stack, and he settles down before cracking it open.

A cartoonish octopus greets him, with stray lettering in Italian, and he stares at it, hoping it would morph into something else.

Nothing changes, and he leans back before trying to make sense of the words.

“Fucking Verde.”

A snort.

Then, quieter, “…thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be about Luce and Skull, and a little about Luce's pregnancy, but I realized pretty quickly that Skull would've been super pissed at her above everyone else. So they will make up, eventually, as Skull works through the reality of everything, but he's going to be a mess for a little while. We might get into that in the next chapter, honestly.
> 
> For now, you get a good idea of what happens when a Cloud is restrained, and that is ennui and deep rage.
> 
> The pacifiers are still a thing (because it's a symbol of their legendary state), but Skull high-key hasn't worn his at all, mostly because no one trusts him not to throw it into a fireplace or something.
> 
> The bonding means they can somewhat sense what the others are feeling. It's less intense the further you are, but Skull is miserable enough that literally everyone knows. Luce can feel how much he hates her right now, and it's bad on both sides.
> 
> (This isn't hate for her, by the way. I love Luce, it's just that Skull was the most affected by the curse, so there are emotions there.)
> 
> Comments and criticisms are welcome. This is my first time actually writing for this fandom, so I might get facts and stuff mixed up....


	3. l'ascesa e la caduta (the rise and the fall)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were bars on the window. Black, solid iron ones. He pressed against them, staring at the scant amount of glass visible between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Skull getting fucked by people who like him and don't want to hurt him too badly
> 
> Also me: deep emotional conversations and resolutions
> 
> _Sob._
> 
> This is a cry for help.

Hating Luce is surprisingly difficult. Liking her is similarly complicated, so Skull has to really, really try not to hurt her.

Emotionally, he means. He’s under no illusions that she can take his ass in a heartbeat, even if she is heavily pregnant and probably one of the nicer Arcobaleno. He’s never been good at fighting, honestly, and he’s not sure he would survive fighting anyone right now anyway.

So he puts that on the backburner and tries to become an intellectual. Or something.

The thing is, he can read several languages, but only portions of them. The pertinent parts, the ones that mention where the doctor or where the alcohol is located. Important things, like that. But everything else is just too difficult.

Sure, he’s fluent in one language and half-way decent in Italian, but no one else knows that one language and everyone is prone to laughing at his broken Italian. It doesn’t inspire confidence in himself, that’s all.

But everything else hurts too much, so he stumbles into Verde’s lab when he isn’t fucking around with something toxic, and he pieces together the stupid language.

He still spends a lot of time in bed by sheer necessity. It’s so easy to over-do it, and then his body decides it wants to shut down for a day or two.

(He hates it. He hates not being able to just leave. He hates being sickly and ill when he used to take life-threatening injuries and brush them off like casual bruises, he once survived near decapitation and now he can barely-

 _Stop_.)

He wrings his hands, unable to burn off the excess energy.

He turned to the side, and his eyes caught upon the window, and his mouth slowly turned up.

He knew it was there, of course, but he hadn’t really observed it. He pulled the curtain’s cord, and the creme coloured curtains shifted.

His smiled faded.

There were bars on the window. Black, solid iron ones. He pressed against them, staring at the scant amount of glass visible between them.

So he really was…he really couldn’t leave.

How foolish of him to expect otherwise. He’s not just an Arcobaleno, after all. He’s the…he’s the object that can kill them, their weakness. Their very obvious Kryptonite.

He presses his forehead against the bars, watching the world from his bed.

He doesn’t want to think about this anymore.

His eyes catch upon the greenery, and his mouth pulled upwards.

Luce did, eventually, find him. To be fair, it wasn’t like he went out far. The garden was next to the house, and Skull sat leaning against a tree next to the rosebushes.

“Skull! We’ve been looking for you!” She looked slightly frazzled, and he felt a pang of guilt for making the woman rush around searching for him.

He shoved that down. He was still angry with her. He turned away, face sullen.

“Skull…” she trailed off, voice morose. He flinched, hands twisting in the blanket wrapped around him.

“I know you angry with me. But it is getting dark out here, and your immunity is still not strong enough for you to spend the night out here.” He glared into the ground, wishing she would leave.

“Skull.” This time, her voice had iron to it, and Skull curled into himself further.

Luce sighed, and she motioned to someone else behind the tree. A man in a black suit gently picked up Skull in a princess carry, and Skull tried to escape, squirming around, until the man had finally thrown him in a fireman’s carry.

Skull hit his back, and the man didn’t even react.

“Let me go!” He shrieked, pounding harder. Luce, walking behind the man, gave him a disappointed look, and his returning glare was venomous.

The man didn’t take him back to his room though. Instead, they went to the large kitchen, cheery yellow mosaics shining under the golden lights.

The man set him down at the table and left at Luce’s say-so.

Skull didn’t look up, focused stubbornly away from Luce.

“Skull. _Please_.” He grits his teeth.

“Talk to me. Don’t…don’t ignore me.” Luce’s voice sounds pained, and she sounds miserable-

But she- she can’t fix this, she made him like this, she-

He-

Luce flinches, hard.

_“Skull.”_

And he whirls around at her, except he’s sitting down and tired, but the anger, the anger is the same.

“I am so, so mad at you. I can’t even comprehend how much I loathe you right now.” Cold purple eyes latch onto hers, and her breath hitches.

Skull is shaking, trembling, voice uneven.

“Because you know? I can’t even…I can’t even leave. I’m stuck, like a nightingale in a cage, locked up like a liability. Because I am. Because I’m a weakness, and I hate it. I hate this, I hate everything and everyone so, so much right now. Because I have had my neck broken and I still walked away, but now? Now I’m a sitting duck-”

His fingers clench around nothing, and his face is tired.

“And the worst part, the worst part is-”

He shakes, swallowing down a sob. Luce swallows, eyes growing wet.

“The worst part is that _I know_ that this had to happen. The worst part is that I know that it’s no one’s fault, really, and in the end, _I’m just a casualty._ I’m just another pawn to keep the world spinning.” Teary purple eyes meet her own, she grips the back of a nearby chair.

“The worst part,” he whispers, “is that I’m angry at you, but I’m so tired. I don’t want to be mad anymore, I don’t really want to be _anything_ anymore.” He looks at her, mouth trembling.

“I just don’t want to be locked up and hidden away.” The kitchen is silent, and Luce comes closer to Skull. He holds still.

“Skull,” she begins, voice mournful. “Skull, I am deeply apologetic for what has been done to you, and I regret my role in it. I am sorry that it must be this way.”

She wraps a tentative arm around him, and he grips her tightly. Her collarbone grows damp, and she closes her eyes.

“I am so, so sorry that I did this to you.”

“It’s not okay.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

“You do not need to. I have hurt you to an unbearable degree.”

“…I might. Be able to. _Eventually_.”

“I just need some time.”

“Well…we have nothing _but_ time now.” Soft giggling breaths warm against her skin, and soft lips curled faintly upwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really wanted to have Luce and Skull cooking together, you would not believe me how badly I wanted that. But short chapters, frequent-ish updates, plus my need for emotional resolutions all stood in the way of that.
> 
> When I posted the first chapter, I already wrote part of the smutty stuff with Fon. I fully expected that to be posted by, like, the second chapter.
> 
> Third chapter and he's still with Luce and Verde..ahhahaha. I'm dying.
> 
> But seriously, pray for me. I'm hoping for a change of scenery by the fourth or fifth chapter. I really want to fit in Aria's birth, but it seems less and less likely to happen. But fingers crossed!
> 
> Beyond Skull, Fon is probably my favourite Arcobaleno and that's going to be very evident.
> 
> Talk to me! I love hearing from you~


	4. la nascita di un veggente (the birth of a seer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good?” She asks, eyes solemn.
> 
> He grins back. “It’s good.” He’s gifted with a small, sincere smile, before her eyes drift past him and into the future.
> 
> (Seeing the future must fuck you up.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I'm not dead! Just had an extremely busy week, and you know how that goes.
> 
> This chapter can be summed up with this statement: Seeing the future fucks you up.
> 
> Also, I think it's time I stop lying to myself. This is not going to be eight chapters long. I don't know how many chapter long this will be, but the lies. Stop. Now.
> 
> Enjoy!

Skull’s immediate response to crying at Luce was to hide away for a day or two until he was certain she would stop looking at him with that soppy expression. It’s a weird-looking expression because she’s half upset and half delighted, and it makes Skull want to jump out of a second-story window.

Luckily, Verde is equally emotionally constipated, so neither of them have any issues with spending time together, silently. Verde got to dissect whatever the fuck he was dissecting (a random body Luce had thoughtfully provided) and Skull began slowly regain some of the strength he had lost all this while.

(That is not to say Skull clings to Verde, because interacting with Verde is like dipping your pinkie into an acidic broth, but they can stand to be in each other’s presence sometimes. If Skull is silent and doesn’t breathe too loudly, and if he sits still.)

He’d never been muscular, per se, but he had this wiry sort of strength that came from hours of intense, dangerous stunt training and general circus-y things. Like the agility that comes from dodging knives or drunk people, and the like.

It wasn’t like he was going to be weight-lifting or anything, but it improved his mood greatly.

Luce, strangely enough, liked to cook. For someone who was filthy rich with servants and chefs for this exact purpose, Luce was oddly particular about being the one to prepare meals. She had always cooked for herself, and now that Skull and Verde were temporarily living with her, she took over their meals as well.

Skull couldn’t really understand if this was because she genuinely enjoyed cooking, or because she didn’t trust anyone not to poison her.

Verde, when asked, said it was likely both. This is not comforting in the slightest, the idea that someone would poison a pregnant woman to gain power, and the idea that Luce actively expected and countered this.

Skull begins watching her cook mainly out of idle curiosity and to spend time with her without being under her focus all the time. It makes it easier not to feel so fucking betrayed when she looks at him like _that_.

The thing about Luce is that she’s so rarely there. She’s too busy seeing the possible fates and secrets of everyone around her that when she looks at someone, she seems to be looking past them. She sees what could be, what might be, what must be, not who they are.

Being with her is like talking to someone else’s reflection. You know there’s someone there, but at the same time, not. Luce’s eyes are glassy and distant.

But cooking, but when she’s cooking, it seems like she’s there, whole and hearty and tethered. Luce is there, and he can somewhat see why people like her, in a less superficial way that the Arcobaleno have come to. He can see the brilliance and the kindness and all the things she must have been, before.

(Because it’s obvious something has happened to her to shatter her like this.)

“Here,” she says, turning to him. “Try this.” She holds out a wooden spoon with some sort of sauce on it, and he obediently opens his mouth and tastes it.

“Good?” She asks, eyes solemn.

He grins back. “It’s good.” He’s gifted with a small, sincere smile, before her eyes drift past him and into the future.

(Seeing the future must _fuck you up_.)

Aria’s birth is oddly within her nature. Luce is the only one who knows this now, but her daughter will be decisive and grounded in a way that must’ve come from the other half of her DNA.

(It certainly has _not_ come from Luce, for all that she does for duty and the fate of the world.)

The contractions hit steadily, as she’s sitting down to eat, and she freezes for a moment to make sure she’s really feeling the pain now, in the present, and not the pain from the future. It takes her a moment before she can pin down the sensation, and she thinks that yes, _this is now._

“Aria seems to be impatient,” she says, placing her fork down. Her voice is only a little strained, but Gianni jerks immediately into action.

(There’s always protocol to fall back on. Their Lady is many things, but one can never say she hasn’t prepared them for this.)

From then, it’s a flurry of movement, soft pillows, and-

She blanks out, fingers barely feeling the fabric they are clinging to, the sheets under her or the feeling of the midwife touching her-

She closes her eyes and prays she won’t _see_ anything today.

Her head pounds, and she forces her eyes open as the air around her wavers, thins and thickens as world warps and-

She’s screaming in pain, in exhaustion, when her vision suddenly twins, and she sees a woman with long hair and _his_ eyes, laying on a bed screaming in the same way. The woman lays across from her, in front of her, and they make eye contact and they stare at each other, jaws agape.

They scream in tandem, not in alarm, but unified pain. The pain of motherhood, the pain screaming in their spines as they bring their children into the world.

(The pain of being bound to an unfortunate fate, walking a line of desperation and hope and _fo **rthegreatergood-**_ )

**( _seersandoraclesanddeath,apolloandsephiraandcheckerfaceand thedeadrisingabove-_ )**

They are together, except not- this is a pathway, a nexus in fate, a unified point. They are together except not because this is Luce’s _daughter_ and she knows she will die before this point, she will die without ever seeing her daughter grow up, or see what becomes of _her Familia_ , but-

They are together in time and vision, her daughter’s eyes stuck onto hers in wonder and pain and the agony of seeing too much, seeing everything and nothing and being unable to change anything and playing into the hands of _monsters_ -

The image wavers and warps and it feels like their pain has doubled, the pain of mother and daughter giving birth at once. She is pushing out the child sitting in front of her, except-

Except her daughter is grown, long, dark tresses plastered with sweat, and she can feel her own hair sticking to her forehead, and the woman stares at her as the contractions hit harder and faster-

Luce sobs as her legs tremble with strain, watching as Aria, so young, gives birth. Watches as the future doubles and then divides again, watches as her daughter pushes out her own daughter, Luce’s granddaughter, and the world spins and the scent of blood grows. Four pathways, four viable pathways-

A stillborn, a healthy boy, a healthy girl, and-

Luce screams one last time as she pushes out her child entirely, and then the world dulls into black fog, and something explodes, and she blinks away sunspots and blackholes, adrift in a sea of _possibilities_.

_( **Nonononononopleasestop-)**_

**_(idon’twanttoseethisanymore-)_ **

Luce did not want them in the birthing room. Skull could understand why she didn’t want him, but Verde was a scientist and a doctor. Why not him?

He had wondered about this, but now he understood. From the way Verde was staring at the child in his arms, as if it would bite him or worse, _drool_ on him-

Aria gums at his finger, and Skul coos at her. She is red and squishy and Skull thinks this might be love. Or imprinting.

Verde watches the baby with a detached fascination.

“Children are children, and children are spawn. This one just happens to be Luce’s spawn,” he finally announced, with an air of finality. As if Skull couldn’t quite hear the edge of desperation there.

He thought he could escape. _How cute_. Skull pouts at the baby, softly touching her cute little birthmark. She wrinkles her nose, and sneezes softly.

He squeals and presses her closer.

Verde stares harder. Positively burning with some unidentified emotion.

Poor, poor unemotional scientist. Skull would pity him if it wasn’t for all the shit Verde has put him through, with all those _experiments_.

No, Skull is too far gone for the likes of _sympathy._

“She’s quite cute,” Skull says neutrally. “So cute, that no one would blame you for wanting to hold the flesh-potato.”

Verde stares at him, silently mouthing the words ‘flesh-potato’. He stares at the baby in Skull’s arms.

Skull waits. He can do this all day, and with baby Aria in his hands? He could do this for centuries. She gums at his finger a little harder.

Verde swallows, hard.

“…fine. Give her to me.” Skull settles the child into Verde’s arms, watching as sky blue eyes stare into dark black.

And they both keep staring.

And staring.

Neither are blinking, and he can see Verde wincing, slightly, but both are in a struggle for dominance, and Skull won’t interrupt this.

Whatever _this_ is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby Aria is a treat.
> 
> I kind of want to emphasize that none of the Arcobaleno are good people? They are good characters and interesting, but they are so, so fucked up. To extents that Skull doesn't even realise because Skull is also fucked up.
> 
> Anyway, haven't actually said where Skull is from. Our Lord and Saviour Vixentail said he was Czechoslovakian, the fic I was inspired implies his Norse...but I have some entirely different ideas. But I would also? Love to hear your ideas. So where do you think Skull is from? There are no wrong answers!
> 
> I also had this idea for this Olympus/Fae mashup fic where Skull is a god on a pantheon and he goes missing, and Tsuna-fish is the warrior sent to find him by the other Arcobaleno. I had some cool ideas for that, but I'm not sure I'll write it soon. I did draw this though.
> 
> See! It's God!Reborn. He's the god of the sun, the king of all the gods. He's terrifying, and it's sort of like..sort of like he's made of gold? Carved from gold...eheh..


	5. le illusioni presenti (the illusions present)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viper’s eyes are barely visible under their hood. They gleam ominously in the moonlight.
> 
> “Mou, Skull-chan. What the _bloody hell_ were you doing right now?” Their voice is a deep baritone, heavy in the silent night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, sighing :I'm in too deep
> 
>  **Warnings**  
>  Mild descriptions of parental neglect to child, due to mental illness. It's all very mild and hopefully non-triggering, but if you're worried, then just zip down to end notes.

Aria’s birth means two things.

One, baby Aria. This part is amazing because Aria is cute and Skull actually likes the kid, and he has to admit, life is a little…brighter with her around, even if Skull does tend to overdo it when he carries her around and then end up in bed because of overexertion.

(She’s just very cute and calm, and Skull has never, ever considered having children, but Aria is somehow breaking every unknown expectation he had set.)

Two…Luce may or may not be losing her mind faster.

It’s a subtle thing, really small and Skull shouldn’t notice, not really, but Skull’s career is noticing people and reading them, trying to figure out what makes them tick, what makes them pay attention to him. So he notices when Luce falls asleep mid-conversation. This part is okay because pushing out a whole-ass baby is probably exhausting, but it’s the way she doesn’t quite… _wake up_. Sure, she gets out of bed, but her eyes are dull and tired and she seems worn out like she’s dreaming of something horrible and she can’t escape it even during waking hours.

But, then again, what does Skull know? Might be shellshock or something, might be normal for the type of people he’s living with. He doesn’t ask because it seems like a private sort of thing.

Except, you know, the rapidly deepening pit in his stomach gets worse.

It’s the small things that bug him about her, the way she seems almost… _gone_.

It’s.

Alright, so.

Luce’s Manse is quite large. It’s filled with people and bodyguards, mafioso with the mark. It’s a bit like a corporate business, except that it also houses lots of Luce’s relatives, some of her subordinates, and families under the banner as well.

But Skull doesn’t get to see them- doesn’t ever get to interact with them. Luce’s close family (and the Arcobaleno) stay in a separate wing, separate quarters to prevent contact, to keep his presence a secret.

To keep Aria a secret.

Skull doesn’t want to be compared to a baby, not even Aria, but he is as weak as one currently, so he won’t complain. _Much._

But if only the trusted are allowed inside, if only the most secure are allowed to clean these hallowed halls, then that leaves very few people inside. It’s so empty, this internal area, and the reason Skull feels ten times worse on a bad day.

So. The halls are empty, and there’s Aria.

And Luce loves her kid, it’s obvious that she does, and yet…

Luce doesn’t spend time with her, much.

_(It's almost like she's not sure she's there.)_

Skull can’t really understand why, because even he knows that moms are supposed to spend time with their children, but at first, he attributes it to Luce being the head of Giglio Nero. She’s obviously very busy, running a hundred or so bloodthirsty men or women must be…difficult. He’s read Harlequin novels, he knows the political interplay and the dramatic lifestyle (he doesn’t know shit).

But there’s still something wrong. Skull watches over baby Aria as much as he can, but he’s always taking her from the nanny or the nursemaid, never from Luce herself. And he thinks at first that he’s just missing Luce’s visits, misses it, but his sleep schedule is fucked up so he’s awake at night sometimes, and Aria is still in her nursery. She’s under guard (and wasn’t that fun to explain to the guards, what he, a sickly teenager, was doing trying to see his pseudo-niece because he wanted to cuddle) but her mother is nowhere to be found.

And slowly, Skull begins to realize that her mother is seldom around, and it’s almost like…

It’s like Luce doesn’t remember she exists.

Skull is…uncomfortable by this, mostly on what exactly this might mean for baby Aria. Because Skull isn’t going to be here forever, and Verde is already half-way done with packing his shit up now that Skull isn’t in danger of keeling over.

(Uncomfortable is too nice for what he feels. It chills him, it makes him shiver.)

And Verde is useless in this anyway. It’s like all the mafioso didn’t have good childhoods, so he can’t even explain his fucking concerns.

He doesn’t know who to talk to. The staff tolerates him, but they don’t particularly like him. He’s a guest. He’s not one of theirs, because even the maids know how to handle guns.

And he doesn’t have friends in this world, anyone he can really talk to.

(How is he supposed to explain why this is bad to someone who can’t understand?)

He has partners. Unwilling, trapped partners that want to protect him but somehow don’t want anything to do with him, not really-

(Like who is he going to tell? _Reborn?_ Please.)

Except.

It’s not impossible to get Viper’s attention if you just knew how. And Skull doesn’t really know how, but he’s not sick anymore. And while he can’t ever manifest the violet flames, he can use them.

He’s awake in his bed, sitting up against the headboard, and he can’t sleep. He closes his eyes and then thinks.

What would get Viper’s attention? What does he have that would make it worth it for them? Why would they care, one way or another?

 _They won’t_. They might not even understand why neglecting a baby is a bad thing. But Skull has to make it worth something.

Skull has no illusions as to where he stands with Viper. He was their somewhat tolerable bondmate, someone too weak to stab them in the back and too soft-hearted for mafia life. He went from acquaintance to asset in the span of a few days, probably jarring. He was their dirty secret, a weakness in their armor.

But he didn’t have any other option.

He thinks, humming softly, about a flare. Or a sprinkler, the type the circus liked. Then he thought of a bomb, an explosion.

The last one was out because he didn’t want Viper showing up in a panic. They might be in the middle of something shady and life-threatening, and they’d be in a sour mood if he’d called them for a ‘whim’.

A soft, steady pulse of a lantern, then.

He thought about a silk-covered lantern, the type that got more common the closer you got to greater Asia, and he imagines himself lighting the inside with a small match. He tries to envision himself holding it, pale fingers wrapped around the handle. He’s in a night-time festival, a memory from three years ago when he snuck away from the crowd, near a marshy cliff. He holds the lantern, mentally, silently praying before focusing intently.

And then he calls out to Viper.

It’s not a word, it’s not their name. It’s more of a stray wispy thought, what he thinks of when he sees Viper. The color indigo, a verbal tic, a dark velvet cloak lined with ermine fur on the inside. He thinks of sharp words and sharper ribs.

And then he thinks of the warmth inside of him, for colder nights and harsher days, sewing and mending his bones. He thinks of the ether where he sometimes lingers, the purple string that leads him back to his veins and heart, and he imagines the ordinary fire in the purple lantern transmuting into something else.

Something very _purple_.

He begins to feed the flames a little stream of purple, drip by liquid drip, and he’s going real slow, imagining what one of Verde’s saline drip packets look like. Slow like that. He imagines, within himself, the lantern glowing brighter and brighter, almost pulsing with quiet desperation, his _desperation, and it’s so pretty-_

His cheek stings, and suddenly he can feel thin hands around his forearms, bruisingly tight. A body hovering over him, pinning him in place.

His chest is heaving, he realizes blankly, and he suddenly feels light-headed. He wants to close his eyes, but he feels frozen.

Viper’s eyes are barely visible under their hood. They gleam ominously in the moonlight.

“Mou, Skull-chan. What the _bloody hell_ were you doing right now?” Their voice is a deep baritone, heavy in the silent night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings**  
>  Luce's seer ability makes her almost entirely forget about her daughter most of the time. Aria is still taken care of by various nurses and nursemaids (and Skull), but this still scares our purple-boy into contacting the Mist Arcobaleno.
> 
> ### Chapter Notes
> 
> So I finally figured out where the fuck Skull is from, but this info won't be stated directly any time soon probably. It seems kind of dumb if I just state it, though I would love to see if anyone can put it together.
> 
> Skull does, by the way, have a family. Or something like that. But I'm not going to say whether he has parents or even a proper family structure- thing, because that's spoiling stuff. But Skull does have people, if that makes sense, they're just not in the mafia world and thus have no clue what's happening to him.
> 
> Viper's Thoughography is something that might? Be canon? Kind of borrowed it from the fic that inspired this all, except my execution of it is properly different. If the name bothers people though, I can certainly change it, so lmk. I don't want to overstep here.
> 
> Viper's own background is something I've been thinking about for a while, and I have something about that. The next few chapters will shift from Luce's stuff to Viper's.
> 
> Lmk what you think! I love love LOVE your comments, they really make my day and I get sooooo happy when I read them~


	6. ogni azione ha un prezzo (every action has a price)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should have not called Viper.” The words are said almost blandly, completely toneless in the face of Luce’s anger.
> 
> “You were lost in your own head. I called the expert in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some days, you just can't write anything. Other days, you write a thousand words in hopes of eventually writing porn.

Skull can’t speak for a moment. Viper is leaning over him, face so close that their breaths mingle.

Viper’s face is eerily blank, and the hands around his wrists squeeze harshly before letting go. Skull’s eyes are blown wide open, feeling almost intoxicated from his flame usage. His mouth is slightly open, sucking in air to his heavy lungs.

Viper tips in some water, and he watches them, blearily, as their gaze bores into him.

The water helps slightly, but his head still feels stuffed with cotton. Still, he tries to shift forward, so he can talk to Viper, but the minute he presses away from the wall, the world begins to blur slightly as he falls sideways into bed.

Cool hands turn him on his back. Viper hovers next to him, leaving down so their lips brush against his ear, the sensation burning.

“Better have an answer, sweetheart, because if you called for fun, then I’m going to get payment from you in another way.” The words are dark and heavy. It’s a promise. If he doesn’t answer, Viper is going to beat him up.

“…s’Aria.” Viper tilts their head slightly, their right cheek soft against the left side of his face.

“…what about Luce’s daughter?” The hood’s heavy fabric covers one of his eyes, and he closes both in exhaustion.

“Luce is sick…or something. Doesn’t remember she had Aria half the time…”

Soft hands trace his chin, his jugular, and he breaths in sharply. Lips curve against the lobe of his ear.

“…she’s busy.”

“She never visits her kid. She’s sick, from all the…” the seeing? The prophecies? Skull doesn’t know how to describe the nightmare that is the Giglio Nero ability.

“Mhm…and you’re worried?”

“…Is okay so long as…so long as 'm here. But once I move…baby will be alone.” His voice cracks on the last part, and Viper stills.

“And you want me, a person affiliated with the Varia, to talk to the leader of Giglio Nero? Maa, Skull-chan, it doesn’t **work** that way.” Viper’s voice is knife-sharp, poised to draw blood.

“Talk to her…find someone who can watch over baby like that…or find a way for Luce to not…forget? Anchor her?” His voice is thin, and almost quivering by the end of it.

Viper sits upright, mouth up-turned in a dark almost-smile. Skull’s hand twitches as he stifles a shudder. Viper’s body heat was comforting.

“And what do I get in return, mhmm? Luce won’t like it if I mess with her head, will she?”

Skull stubbornly shoves down his anger. He’s not supposed to explain this, Viper should understand why a mother forgetting her beloved child is a bad thing, especially when it’s Luce’s child-

No.

“Whatever you want...in return, from me, I guess. Don’t know what I can offer, 'cause 'm still not well…but...”

He could run errands for them, or do menial labor? He’s not really well enough to steal something for them…but he will be, eventually...

Viper’s eyes remain hidden, but their mouth quirks upright.

“Mou…I have something I want.” Okay, so a robbery then. Skull can probably manage that, with copious amounts of painkillers and-

“You’re going to come live with me, next.” The words take a moment to sink in, and then he blanches.

“Wait, what? You want me to stay with you?” Viper sinks back down next to him, laying almost on top of him.

“Disappointed?” The tone of the word implies that any indication of being disappointed will be met with mental harm, so it’s a good thing that Skull isn’t upset, but rather confused at the prospect.

“No…just surprised? I thought you wouldn’t‘ve wanted me near your base… I mean…”

“Mmmm, you don’t know what I want, do you? I want payment for this, and stealing you away next would be fun.” He doesn’t quite understand why they phrase it _that_ way like he’s a prize to be taken instead of a sickly burden on monetary resources, but he shivers from the thinly-leashed rage in their voice.

He doesn’t want them to be angry at him, so he stays still and silent. Viper’s hot breaths warm his cheek, and the tips of their fingers pressed against the pulse of his wrist.

It’s intense, his pulse, and he can feel it’s rhythm. He can’t really hear anything but his pulse, the warm weight of Viper almost laying above him, the softness of velvet against his ankles, the warmth of skin against skin.

He breathes in, and then he drifts off, hoping with everything that Viper won’t slit his throat the minute he slips underneath.

He wakes up to an empty room, and it’s almost like last night was just a feverish dream. Except, of course, for the heavy ache in his bones. He has to use the restroom, but he’s certain he’ll collapse into a heap the minute he gets up.

He’s rubbing his face with the palm of his hand when Luce enters the room, face blank. He freezes, subtly scooting back against the corner when she steps closer to him, and yanks him closer.

Oh hell, she’s going to deck him, and he doesn’t even have his usual healing abilities!

He’s too tired to duck, so he closes his eyes.

The impact doesn’t come. He cringes, opening an eye warily like he can get away with looking if he squints. Luce is watching him, still as stone.

“You should have not called Viper.” The words are said almost blandly, completely toneless in the face of Luce’s anger.

“You were lost in your own head. I called the expert in.” Her fingers bunch even tighter in the front of his shirt, dark eyes piercing through him. He’d say that she’s searching for something, except it’s more that she’s trying to tear him apart.

Fingernails press against his chest, and he still doesn’t regret it.

He saw a problem, he called in a person to fix it. He’s paying for it by himself, and he’ll deal with the consequences, mafia rules be damned. This is Aria, Luce’s flesh and blood and light. This is worth whatever rule he’s broken, whatever punishment is coming his way.

He tries to show her how serious he is about this. Children deserve to be loved.

The grip slackens, and Luce turns away. Her shoulders are stiff and tense, and her fingers are balled up. It’s the first time he’s seen her express anything but serenity, sadness, or exhaustion.

Her shoulders tremble with sudden tension, and she walks resolutely through the door. Her fingers tremble on the doorknob.

Her voice is a soft whisper.

“Thank you, Skull.”

And then she’s gone out the door, leaving Skull feeling raw and worn out.

“No good deed goes unpunished, huh?” He murmured to himself, laughing sadly.

“…'s alright.”

“I’ve been through worse.”

Verde finds him curled up in a ball under covers, and Skull finds himself pulled upright so Verde can check over him.

He works silently, working over the physical things before bringing up his flame-specific equipment.

Verde hisses something angrily in Spanish, and Skull straightens up.

“What?” He asks warily.

“I should throttle you for what you’ve done. You nearly drained all of your flames last night.” Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and _shook_. “Do you _understand_ what you could’ve done?”

Skull shook his head. “Verde, I knew it was risky, but I had to contact Viper-”

“You could’ve died, you blasted idiot!” Verde roared, and Skull froze.

“You would have died, had Viper not come to you immediately. Your Cloud flames are the only thing keeping you alive. Do you understand? You cannot pull them out or use them in any other way because your organs will shut down and you. Will. **_Die_**.” Verde’s nose flares and he inhales sharply, pinching at the tip of his nose.

Verde looks more than angry. He looks a little sick, like someone who’d gotten too close to death to not be affected.

Skull couldn’t breathe. What came out was a shuddering sort of whine, the type a wounded animal makes. Verde looked at him, looked at his thin frame shuddering.

He's scared. Oh hell, he hadn’t realized how fucking close he came to-

Oh _fuck_.

Skull has… Skull de Mort has always taken death easily. It’s hard not to when death doesn’t touch him.

All those miraculous recoveries…all those near misses…people had questioned how he’d survived certain things.

The truth is obvious.

He hadn’t survived anything. He had well and truly died.

And died again.

_And again._

It’s always been a cornerstone of his identity. Death couldn’t stop him. He’s drug himself out of shallow graves, spit out poison, treated stab wounds like they were papercuts. He’s taken his ability to the extreme, and he’s taken advantage of it a thousand times.

But he can’t do that anymore. His veins are more flame than blood, and he can’t put himself at risk anymore or mess with things he has no clue about, because this time, there is no coming back.

And it’s not just him that will suffer. If he dies, he takes the others as well, and then a new set will have to take on the mantle. Another person will end up sick like him, stuck, or seven other people will be trapped.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Verde scoffs, handing him a fucking handkerchief.

“…sorry,” he says, voice wet and heavy. “Didn’t mean to…” To what? Almost kill himself?

Because…

He doesn’t regret calling Viper, but he does regret trying to use his flames to do it. Verde might’ve not understood why calling Viper was important, but he probably had a way of contacting her. Skull didn’t, but he could’ve asked.

(Still, a part of him is pissed that he can’t just do what he wants, consequences be damned. He feels smothered with all their ‘concern’ and ‘feelings’ and-

 _Shut. Up._ )

“Well, do not let it happen again, understand?” He nods, eyes firmly pinned to the blanket resting on his legs, and calloused hands pull his chin to face Verde.

“Look at me. Never again, _understand_?” This is more of a threat, a promise...

Skull nods. “I understand.” Verde gives him a sarcastic, false smile, before glaring at him, eyes bright with madness.

“ _Good._ Because the next time you pull anything life-threatening, I’ll sedate you and stick you in my lab. You would stay under for _years_ , _unconscious_ , and we would all be _safer_ for it.” Skull swallows, his adam’s apple catching on Verde’s much larger hands.

Verde holds for a moment longer, squeezing his chin until Skull could feel the bruises now discoloring his pale skin, before letting go.

Skull draws a harsh, gasping breath, tears dripping down as the scientist stabs him with an IV line where it hurts the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Viper is really 'angry'. Mhm. Sure jan. 
> 
> There's a lot of politics, and basically even though Luce understands that there was an issue (and that it's good that someone noticed), she feels betrayed because Skull bought an outsider into her Familia's business. 
> 
> Verde is literally the Oorochimaru of this world. He wouldn't, say, experiment on people (that's the Estraenos), but that's because he's focused on flame lore more than anything. And he likes being alive, so obviously he has contingency plans for Skull if he fucks up.
> 
> Another important thing to mention is that this is primarily from Skull's perspective, and therefore flawed. He doesn't know everything, so stuff can be...misleading.
> 
> Love you all!


	7. la dimora dell'imperatore (the emperor's abode)   𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is this your house?” He asks, voice barely a murmur. There’s a crystal chandelier hanging delicately from the ceiling, and the bed is draped with sheer curtains. The lights are low, and he feels a little out of place.
> 
> Viper snorts. “This is just a hotel suite, Skull-chan. It’s temporary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck is up, people? Can you feel the dark circles from beyond the screen? Because senior year is kicking my ass and I'm halfway tempted to dig a hole and crawl inside.
> 
> Viper is hard to write. Viper is a dick and their motives are so simple yet complicated. This is me trying.

The first thing, the important thing is that baby Aria is warm. She’s small, but she radiates this heat and for Skull, who is always cold, who is always freezing and hollow, it’s wonderful. He can feel his fingers again, and this alone would be enough to spend hours watching her.

But it gets better. Skull is always there, so he gets to keep parts of Aria that no one else does. He gets her soft smiles, the brightness of her eyes, the way her pudgy fingers clamp around his larger ones. He gets her tears, he gets to hold her bottle as he cradles, he gets to rock her to sleep.

Skull is…nobody, really, but he exists when he’s watching over her.

Oh hell, he’s so fucking _attached_ to her. He was attached to her when he nearly killed himself to call Viper, he was attached to her when Luce wanted to hurt him, attached when Verde threatened to put him to sleep forever. He’s so attached and she’s wormed her way into the soft parts of his heart and he doesn’t-

And it hurts, unbelievably. This is harder than he thought. This is harder than-

_No._

He hates the mansion, hates this place, hates how empty he feels, but he doesn’t hate spending time with Aria. And he doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to leave her behind. Aria isn’t his kid, but he-

So much more difficult than expected, to leave her behind.

“Mou, Skull-chan, are you going to cry now?” He’s dragged back into the present by the hair, and Viper’s voice has this sharp edge of mockery in it. “Is Skull-chan going to miss playing house?” Viper’s mouth curls up, but the sharp angles of their face make it more threatening than not.

Viper has been in a _mood_ , all day long, ever since they came to get him. He’s not sure why, but he gets the feeling it has nothing to do with him personally.

“No,” he mumbles out, swallowing down any emotion. He’s pressing Aria close to him, almost painfully based on the way her face twists. He forgot who he was with, forgot what Viper could do with that sort of ammunition. It’s a lost cause, really, they already know, but Skull doesn’t need to show the depths of his care. There’s a difference between being concerned for someone and loving someone, and he’s not sure Viper will ever tolerate him loving someone.

Viper’s fingers press into his shoulders, and he cuddles Aria for a moment longer, pressing a hard kiss to her hair, before handing her to the new nursemaid. Skull doesn’t know what his face is doing right now, because the woman gives Skull a soft look, and Viper, abruptly, pulls him away.

He nearly trips, but Viper’s grip on his arm is verging on painful. They aren’t even walking- they’re hovering with ease, and Skull can barely keep up.

“Slow…slow down, please.” Viper gives him a razor-sharp _look_ , but does slow down just enough for Skull to catch his breath.

“Where…where are we going?” They’re in an empty ballroom, one of Luce’s biggest ones. Skull’s bag is already there.

“I have some business pending, and you’re coming with me.” Skull bites his lip, wondering aloud what business that could be.

“Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that.” Viper’s smile is absolutely _feral_ in anticipation. Skull, hesitant, picks up his suitcase, and Viper’s grin gets even bigger, wilder. They slash into the air, and indigo clouds appear, gradually circling around them.

Viper’s eyes flick up and down at him, and they wave their hand, careless. “You might want to hold on.” Skull has scarcely a second to process that, to cling onto Viper, before all he can see is Viper and the mist, before the entire world disappears under his feet.

Viper’s abilities are prodigious, truly worthy of being an Arcobaleno. Thoughtography, teleportation, and solid illusions mean that Viper is single-handedly one of the most powerful creatures in existence.

But he could say the same for the others. Fon could burn a nation to ashes with a flick of his finger, Verde’s lightning has burnt people inside out, and Reborn’s aim never misses. They are the strongest, and next to them, Skull can’t help but feet very small, like a grain of sand in the face of a tempest. He tries to calm himself, tries to be nonchalant, telling himself that this inadequacy is normal for him. His pulse still skitters out of control, though, as they reappear in what appears to be a sumptuous living space.

He doesn’t know where to begin, but it’s all dark wood, leather sofas that are an elegant russet color, silk wall hangings, and the place has rooms. Skull’s too busy dealing with his nausea to go around and touch everything, but Viper doesn’t let him rest for a second. They drag him into a bedroom, decorated in rich scarlets and soft creme colors.

“Is this your house?” He asks, voice barely a murmur. There’s a crystal chandelier hanging delicately from the ceiling, and the bed is draped with sheer curtains. The lights are low, and he feels a little out of place.

Viper snorts. “This is just a hotel suite, Skull-chan. It’s temporary.” Skull, silently, wonders if this indicates that he will follow them through a series of temporary locations like this one. He also wonders if Viper really has a home or base, because while he can see that they clearly appreciate luxury, he can’t quite see them settling down anywhere. It seemed wrong somehow.

He switches tracks, unwilling to go further down that path.

Skull hummed. “Is this…my room? Is yours next door?” It would be quite strange of Viper to bring him here if it wasn’t his room. The idea of sinking into the mattress is tempting- his room at Giglio Nero, while comfortable, was empty in a way that reminded him of a morgue. This room has character.

Viper gives him an odd, blank look. “Skull-chan, this place is for you. I don’t sleep.” The _I don’t need a room_ follows silently. They say that with no inflection at all, and Skull takes it (surface-level). He’s too tired to ponder the mysteries of flame lore or the mysteries of Viper’s habits. He nods slowly and sets down his suitcase in the corner of the room.

Viper is out the door in a heartbeat. “Dinner will be served soon.” They walk out without another look, and Skull drags himself over to close the door. He does it slowly, hesitantly, almost like he’s ready for something to jump out and scare him.

When nothing happens, he sinks into a plush creme armchair, hands wary of touching the rests. He feels dirty, almost, and the room looks far too grand for the likes of him.

But it’s been a long day, so he slides open the various doors on the side until he finds the restroom. He slips in, hoping to take a shower.

The restroom, god, he should’ve expected this, but it’s the size of a good-sized room. Or a house. There are paintings on the side, all in shades of cool grey, and in the center of the restroom is this…is this bathtub. But Skull doesn’t think it’s fair to call it that because it’s a few meters long and more of a shallow pond than anything. Its edges are lined with obsidian, and Skull wants to run the water and sink in.

Later. Later, he tells himself. It’s late, and dinner will be ready. He finds the shower instead, a weird thing with no walls. When he turns the handle, blue lights stream from above, glowing. It’s faint, but he stares at them, dumbly, until the water hits gaping mouth and he accidentally swallows some.

And then his throat is irritated from the coughing. He takes in the blue-green mosaic tiles. His hair sticks to his neck and shoulders, and he squeezes out some fancy shampoo.

There’s a mirror. Skull, impulsively, covers his face with his hands. After more warm water streams down his back, his thighs, he peeks out, nervous.

The tattoo is the same. He brushes over it, a bit too hard. His sensitive skin reddens, and he hisses.

A teardrop for an unlucky child. He grimaces, before plastering his old showbiz smile on his face. The effect is rather garish, and he drops it when it becomes unsettling.

He can’t pull up a sincere smile, for some reason, so he stops trying.

The water is a bit too hot now, but he’s sickeningly engrossed at staring at himself.

He’s thin and pale, which is a given. He’s always been thin and pale, but he looks half-dead, like a ghost. He is better than before, but only in the sense that a dead person looks worse than someone halfway there.

His hair is getting quite long, almost to his shoulders, and when he tilts his head. He might be able to wear it tied up soon, and wonders if he should get it cut. Wonders if it really matters either way.

He stumbles out of the shower when his skin starts losing feeling when he realizes how his fingers look like Arabian dates. There’s a blue robe hanging on the rack, wonderfully soft and warm, and he throws that on instead of putting on any pants.

His skin is red and it hurts to touch, a bit too delicate, so he puts his underwear on and keeps the robe. He slips out into his main bedroom, ready to face it.

It’s just as mindfuckingly opulent as before, and he sits down at the edge of the bed, carefully lifting up the curtains. Laying down, he realizes that the wooden ceiling has these lovely wooden carvings of flowers and vines. He lays very still, hair still a bit damp, sinking into his pillow.

His eyes droop, and the warmth of the bed underneath pressed against his cool skin is exquisite. He curls into himself, on the brink of sleep.

The door opens.

He blinks, blearily. Viper meets his eye and blinks.

“Dinner is ready,” they say, after a moment of silence, and he slips out the side of the bed and stumbles out the door behind them. It’s like he’s an alternate reality or something. Viper isn’t saying anything, and he’s too tired to fill up the silence with his show persona.

(Too tired to pretend he’s okay.)

Under the crystal chandeliers, he feels underdressed. But Viper’s herding him towards the dining room, and it’s far too late to dress appropriately. He doesn’t have anything fancy enough to match the decor anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: So Skull is here for a Very Important Reason
> 
> Also Me: *setting up a scene for bathtub sex for later on*
> 
> Me: pLoT


	8. a dimora dell'imperatore (the emperor's abode) 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beat of silence and Viper inhales sharply. He can feel the dread pooling in his stomach.
> 
> Viper snaps. Indigo tendrils throw his plate against the wall with a loud crash. He stares at the sad ceramic remains before slowly looking back at the mist user.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: What's pacing?
> 
>  **Warnings**  
>  Really vague references to a sex trafficking ring, pedophilia, and Skull dealing with the mafia's idea of morality. Personally, I think it's super vague, nothing is detailed at all. But you can check the notes at the bottom if you so wish

The food is already set on the table, this grand oak thing with chairs at either end. It seems too large for the room, too large for a mere two people. He doesn’t think Viper cooked, but it isn’t a matter of capability. He just doesn’t think they’re the sort to enjoy that. But Viper is a person with hobbies too, right? So maybe they did cook, and maybe he’s being weird about it.

It’s the cloak, really. He can’t imagine them doing normal people things, like grocery shopping. Imagining Viper walking through an aisle makes him smile. He forces himself to be neutral as he picks at the pasta on his plate. It’s nice and creamy, and he tries to not shovel it in like a heathen, but based on Viper’s grimace, he hasn’t succeeded.

Good. This was getting a little weird.

“So,” he begins, tiredly, “…what do you need me for?” He’s careful not to mention the words help or assistance - fuck knows how they’d be construed with Viper. But it’s time he knows why he’s here, why Viper’s hosting him. They want something from him, want something big. Viper takes care of their investments.

Viper, looking down at the wine glass they were holding, was silent for a moment. They swirled the red wine briefly before taking a sip.

“I work with the Varia, as you should well know.” Skull nods.

“I generally stick to what the Varia needs me to do- they’re one of the few who can _afford_ to hire _me._ ” This is punctuated by a smirk.

Skull tries to not roll his eyes. Viper’s idea of revenge involves eldritch apparitions, and Skull does not want any of that near him.

“But an old…associate of mine,” they say in a very odd tone, “contacted me about a sex trafficking ring up in Germany.”

Skull doesn’t know what to say to that, except, “That’s fucked up.” Viper nods, sipping wine. He doesn’t know if their outrage is hidden under layers of carefully cultivated disinterest, or if that’s Vipers regular face, but he shovels some more pasta into his mouth.

He has no room in his life for petty feelings like disappointment. It’s simple. Don’t expect anything from anyone, and you can never feel cheated.

“I offered to _resolve_ the issue.” Viper gives him what might’ve been a grin if it wasn’t so fucking sharp.

“That’s…good, isn’t it? You’re certain to…” He doesn’t want to say _shut down the ring_ because he’s not entirely sure that’s Viper’s prerogative here. He certainly hopes it is, but he’s not expecting much from Viper’s moral department. Something twists in his stomach, and he sips some water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

“Yes, Skull, my prerogative is to _shut down the ring._ ” Oh, they’re in his head right now, fabulous. There’s something dark in their expression, something chilling. Viper’s small smile drops and he shivers as the mood makes a complete one-eighty.

He closes his eyes until he can feel Viper’s cold flames retreat from his…from himself.

He doesn’t tell them to stop. It’s a blatant invasion of privacy, but he doesn’t want to mention it. Viper’s contrary, so who’s to say they won't do it just to prove a point?

He doesn’t look at them directly, and Viper’s lips tighten. The silence is heavy, and Skull doesn’t know what to say.

In the past, everyone used to complain that Skull was too naive for holding onto morality, for caring that they were criminals. Obviously, it’s on him for being on the right side of the law, right? So Skull decided to not hold them to anything at all. If you can steal millions from a government charity, for fun, who’s to say you wouldn’t look past a sex ring for money? Viper said it themselves- their motivation is for the dough.

Viper’s fingers are white against their glass. Skull can feel them staring at him, boring into him, and he feels his muscles tense up.

His fork scratches against the empty plate with a long whining noise. He winces and stills, but his fork clatters onto the plate.

A beat of silence and Viper inhales sharply. He can feel the dread pooling in his stomach.

Viper _snaps_. Indigo tendrils throw his plate against the wall with a loud crash. He stares at the sad ceramic remains before slowly looking back at the mist user.

Viper sips their wine, calmly, like the last few seconds didn’t happen. Skull doesn’t relax.

Viper looks at him, and the exposed part of their face twitches in a way that implies an eyebrow being raised.

He forcibly relaxes, fingers twisting on his lap.

“Regardless of your _beliefs_ , ” and the word is spat out, venomous “even I wouldn’t condone something as horrifying as a sex trafficking ring.” Skull stays silent, unwilling to really apologize.

He does feel guilty though. Damn. He keeps his gaze down, away from the person trying to burn him alive with their eyes alone.

He wishes they would just keep telling him about their plans. The silence is too heavy for him, and he’s also certain Viper could slit his throat with the butter knife they’re playing with.

Ugh.

“…what do you need me to do?” He asks, quietly, only realizing his mistake after he’s said it, and already cringing.

Too late, Viper has already stabbed the butterknife into the table, three centimeters deep. “ _Need?_ I don’t _need_ anything, not from you, Skull- _chan_.” He winces at the sheer acidity present.

“Fine,” he says. “What do you want me to do to repay my debt?” Good, reminding them of the debt. It’s a fifty-fifty ploy, and it might go either way.

Viper’s face does this thing. It might be a smile, it might be a death sentence, but it’s feral either way.

“Oh, simple.” And Skull can feel the dread rising, can already feel that this isn’t going to end well.

“I just want you to seduce the man in charge.”

He freezes, painfully still, before wheezing harshly.

_“What.”_

Viper’s shadow, usually humanoid, is flickering in a pretty alarming way. “You heard me. You are going to seduce the man running the trade.”

“You’re pimping me out?” He croaks, head still not entirely caught up from this alarming statement.

Viper, tilting their head in a vaguely malicious way, faux-pouted. “Well, if I don’t have any morals-” and Viper sneers, darkly, “I might as well take advantage.” Suddenly, they’re in front of him.

He, like a reasonable person, jumps and then flails.

“What the-” and his chair, through no means of his own, is being pulled out from under the table. It’s then turned to the side, facing Viper, who looms over him.

He swallows.

“Why exactly do you…why me?” He’s certain that there are actual operatives for this. Not to mention that he’s male as well.

Cool hands cup his face. He wants to lean back, but they could go lower and throttle him, and that would be undeniably worse.

“We know who it is. Rather, we know which three are in charge. Two of them I can dispose of easily, but the last one is tricky.”

“Can’t you interrogate him?” _With your weird mind tricks?_

“It’s nice to see you have such faith in me, but my reputation works against me. There are also suspicions that he’s a flame user as well.”

“And…you’re sending _me_ out there?” Their fingers rubbed against his cheekbones, and he shivered. Viper bent down, closer, and grinned.

“Well, your face is rather unfamiliar to our world. You’re one of the Arcobaleno’s best-kept secrets.” This is _news_ to him, and he hopes his eyes reflect that.

“Ah, ah, Skull-chan, remember. Arcobaleno, rainbow. Seven colors, seven types. Fon, Luce, Reborn, Verde, Colonello, Lal Mirch, and myself. No one knows how the pacifiers work, so most assume Lal is our Cloud.”

“That’s…interesting. But I was talking about my health issues and the whole seduction thing.” They snorted.

“Skull, I’m not telling you to sleep with him. I’m telling you to distract him a little so I can find out where he is keeping his wonderful merchandise. I need him to focus on something else so I can get into his head.”

“But the sleeping with-well, that’s not off the table, is it? I don’t want to get beaten up Viper.” He doesn’t want to sleep with anyone in that context, anyway. He may have just snuck into the beginning of adulthood, but a very big part of him did not want to sleep with someone so obviously terrible.

“It’s not, but it probably won’t come to that.”

“Please, just tell me why I’m better than one of your mist…things.”

“Mhm, Skull-chan. ‘Mist things’, as you say, are not conducive to seduction, especially with another flame user. They notice the illusion’s strangeness faster, and this man's list of crimes is quite...extensive. But as for reasons…firstly, you are a perfect choice because you’re male. A very pretty male.”

Skull tried to not grimace at that, even if he personally thinks _eau de corpse_ is not appealing in the slightest.

“Second of all, he goes for boys younger than you.” Viper’s slightly mocking tone dulls at that a smidge, and Skull…well. Skull does _not_ like what that implies, thank you very much, and he’s tired of this bullshit.

“I-Viper. Can’t you just…” He flails a little, trying to communicate castration in a meaningful way. Viper rolls their eyes under their hood.

(He’s gotten used to never seeing half of their face, to the point where he can read their fucking expression. _Fucking hell._ )

“It won’t be for long, and I thought you were all about helping people?” He was not. He was not about secret sting operations, he was about not being a criminal douchebag. He does not want his introduction to the criminal world to happen in such a manner (if it ever needed to happen).

Skull, as a person who was tired from his general weak-ass immunity, from the teleportation, from the sheer tension of being with Viper, does what any person faced with that level of exhaustion and alarm does.

He does not fall asleep. That would be insane.

No, he passes out, hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings**  
>  Skull inspires feelings in Viper, and Viper, irrationally pissed, tells Skull about the sex trafficking ring they'd like him to infiltrate and why. The person he has to seduce has pedophilic tendencies (or that's the implication) Skull passes out.
> 
> ### Chapter Notes
> 
> Ah, don't worry. The only people Skull will sleep with are the Arcobaleno. But the plot is important, and I did say Skull gets introduced to the mafia world. And this is quite an intro. The crime world is not kind.
> 
> Also, I realize I should’ve explained this. Okay, so Lal is the false Arcobaleno, and there’s a lot of flame lore, but basically she has impure flames. A little bit of cloud, just enough to hide Skull’s identity as the true cloud. It’s so no one picks him off. I hope this makes sense.


	9. una lenta discesa all'inferno (a slow descent to hell)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't know what he’ll do if he sees Viper.
> 
> He doesn’t know how to feel about Viper.
> 
> Because this is the sort of tangled emotion Skull can’t deal with. He’s had unpleasant life experiences, of course, he does. That’s what happens when you’re raised by a single mother in a circus tent. You get weirdly flexible (both morally and otherwise) and you learn to deal. You want to settle down somewhere and make friends, go to school? Tough luck, no one will employ your mother, think of it as an extended adventure. You want them to stop whipping the animals? Well, how else are they going to perform? It’s not like you’re any use there.

The first few days, after that accursed dinner of Viper’s, Skull is remarkably relieved that Viper doesn’t call for him. He wakes in his bed, body stiff, with no sign of the Mist anywhere nearby, and he can’t help but feel _safer_ for it.

The meals show up outside the room with a sharp _ping_ of a bell, and the suite is always neatened up, through some mysterious means. Skull doesn’t get out of bed most of the time, both because there’s a distinct lack of things for him to do and because his body likes to remind him that he’s still overwhelmingly ill. It hits him randomly, with good days and bad, the latter far more common.

_(His bones ache. His stomach twists. His heart beats with an arrhythmic pulse that always makes him anxious.)_

The first week, though he is bored, isn’t actually that bad. Skull feels decently neutral about things, though he _is_ stubbornly avoiding thinking about the conversation he had with Viper. It will only upset him, he thinks, and part of him hopes it was all Viper’s idea of a joke, hazing, or something. Certainly, they must know that Skull is still a child.

But when he thinks about it, thinks about his age relative to the time spent in bedrest, thinks about the months under Luce’s purview, counts up what he can…he realizes his birthday has passed. Not by a lot, mind, but by more than a month.

He. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. What does it say about his life that he didn’t even notice? That he didn’t even have the chance to look at a calendar or newspaper to _realize_ what month it was?

He feels a little sick.

It’s not that he missed his eighteenth birthday (except that it is, _it is!_ ), it’s that this eerie sort of existence where time doesn’t even permeate his location. He wakes up and falls asleep only to do the same thing over and over again. The only reason he can tell that time is passing is by looking at the window (covered in a transparent mist with the consistency of steel) or by the different meals given to him. Time is going forward, life is rushing forward, but not with him. No, he is the princess in the castle, the prisoner, the most dangerous thing to seven incredibly powerful people, and this is the price he pays.

(He didn’t want to pay this price. He didn’t know what he was getting into, didn’t know Checkerface was pulling him into this. The other didn’t have a choice either, but none were as clueless. He was a child. He is a child, yet they took advantage of him. _Took advantage of_ his good nature and trapped him here.

There’s something bitter curling in his abdomen.)

If he was back in the circus…if he was back. What would’ve happened?

Well. Feng-jie promised him, years ago, that she’d let him do a show with her. He’d done time with slackline before, and when business was slow, he’d gone up on the tightrope as well. Little Lei used to sit on the ground, round black eyes watching him as he stepped forward, balance in hand. He’d have to practice riding his motorcycle on it, of course, but he was already decent at balancing himself on. The other aerialists might either tempt him with sex (which he'd refuse on principle, just as he had the last few years) or try to take him somewhere quixotic.

What else? _What else?_

There would be sweets, of course. Drinks, as well. He was a man now, or something like that. The Ringmaster might come around, clap him on the back before jauntily shuffling off, but Herr Becker and Frau Lange would give him a hug and a kiss on the forehead, respectively. Clothing for his next stunt. Bandages from Anya, and Gregory might lecture him on wearing something other than his stunt suit, again, before rushing off to chase his kids.

Camille would wear that ridiculous outfit, the fortuneteller one that made no sense, and probably bring him something fancy. Maybe a necklace she’d lifted from an unsuspecting customer? Most men were too busy staring at her tits to realize she was slipping off their valuables.

Izan would let him ride Meimei if the elephant was in a good mood. She’d been pregnant the last time he saw her though, so realistically, there’d be a baby elephant there was well. Babcia, the old beast, would’ve curled up around him.

He’d always been good with animals, but Babcia was his mother’s beloved companion, through and through.

He curls up in his bed, eyes stinging. It shouldn’t hurt, realistically. They were okay. He was alive.

It didn’t matter. _It didn’t matter at all._

It turns out staying in your room for two weeks can make a person incredibly lonely. And by the end of it, Skull had spent hours in the luxurious tub, jumping on the bed (like a child), and going over the books Verde gave him. He’s gone through everything in his bed, even devising hypothetical stunts for fun, even practicing his Italian though his accent is undeniably shitty. But now he’s ready to crawl up the walls and rip out the wallpaper.

He can’t stay in his room for a second longer. Knowing how bad his wandering feet usually are, two weeks is practically a miracle.

But see, his need to escape his room, see something new, get some fucking stimulation, it’s all trumped by his totally valid need to _not_ see Viper.

He doesn't know what he’ll do if he sees Viper.

He doesn’t know _how_ to feel about Viper.

Because this is the sort of tangled emotion Skull can’t deal with. He’s had unpleasant life experiences, of course, he does. That’s what happens when you’re raised by a single mother in a circus tent. You get weirdly flexible (both morally and otherwise) and you learn to _deal_. You want to settle down somewhere and make friends, go to school? Tough luck, no one will employ your mother, think of it as an extended adventure. You want them to stop whipping the animals? Well, how else are they going to perform? It’s not like _you’re_ any use there.

You want to know a little about the culture your mother is from? Tough shit, she tells you you’re lucky to resemble your father, _filthy whoreson that he was_ , and that you should be grateful that no one can tell that you are-

Anyway.

_Anyway._

But Viper isn’t like the others. Viper isn’t just some boss he can get away from. Viper isn’t his mother or another sister he shares a room with. Viper’s presence hangs over him like a sword.

Viper is his _benefactor_. Viper has more power in their fingertips than he’ll see in his whole fucking life. And it’s not the kind of power money can buy (though there is _that as_ _well_ ), it’s the kind that can dig into his organs, burn him, terrifying him. Viper could be in his brain right now and he probably wouldn’t even know it.

He dislikes them. He respects them. He’s blatantly terrified of them, and he wishes he wasn’t under their mountain-sized thumb. He wished he wasn’t here, in a situation that makes him powerless like this.

It all comes back to the fucking curse, and it makes him nauseous to remember his bones falling out of his control, the fiery pain in his nerves. But part of him feels numb to it all like he’s shoving everything that hurts, everything that even mildly concerns him under the rug or behind a wall in hopes of forgetting it.

He doesn’t want to remember Viper’s _threats-that-were-really-promises_.

Hell, _this room_. He has to _get out._ He’s going to go crazy. He knows what isolation does, and he can’t help but remember the dulled gaze of a certain lioness in its cage, right before she passed away the next day.

But he’s not, like, an idiot. He knows he’ll either throw himself at Viper or burst out into tears if he sees them. So it’s a very good idea to make sure Viper isn’t around when he steps out.

But he’s not stealthy or subtle at all, so how he’s going to do that is…beyond him.

His brain has spent hours staring at the carved flowers under the canopy. It’s begging to think about something meaningful, something away from the shambled mess in his head, so he latches onto this issue with a sort of desperate fervency that only the mentally ill and overworked can manage.

Haha. _Fuck._

So Skull is, again, supposed to be an Arcobaleno. The strongest Cloud (though really, no one has ever explained what that means, beyond instability and propagation), except he’s crippled now, shot in the lungs and he can’t do much. His veins are flame, his powers are working overtime to keep him on the alive side of the spectrum.

(He wonders if they’ll just fail someday his limbs will just fall apart, and Verde will have to sew him back together like some sort of freaky monster, the type that they show in film reels.)

The last time he attempted something like this, the last time…well, he’s lucky that he's staying with Viper and not Verde, if last time was any indication. His life is shitty, but not shitty enough to be locked up in a tank or something like that.

He’s really going in blind here. The others had teachers or even some _idea_ of what was possible. They knew, for example, that healing with sun flames was an option. What the hell does Skull know?

Who’s going to teach him the fucking magic?

This is the stuff of his mother’s tales when she bothered to tell him anything at all. This is magic and he can’t even _use it._ Everyone else seems to find him lacking, but they won’t _tell_ him how to fix it. How to protect himself.

He looked at his hands before clenching them tightly.

He has to develop a radar of some sort, he has to! He knows it’s possible because the others say they can feel his emotions sometimes (all the time? _unsure_ ), that proximity matters.

He swears to himself this- he’s not leaving until he gets some sort of net around him.

His heartbeat picks up again, and he curls up under the covers again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Power imbalances! Fun. This chapter is basically the aftermath of that disastrous dinner and a bit of insight into what's happening in Skull's head. If you're a bit confused over the rapid mood shifts, or just feel that something is off? Well that's on purpose, and Skull is not in a good place. 
> 
> He feels powerless and trapped, and that's not something any Cloud should be. So if it makes him a little more desperate to figure his flames out, well.  
> He's never going to be intuitive in Flames, but fighting isn't the only application. 
> 
> (Me, scurrying in the background to make sex with Viper a Viable Thing.)
> 
> (Me realizing my very, very basic understanding of circuses and Europe in the 1960s. Please. Help. Send me sites, or something, I'm terrified.)


	10. la terra del sonno eterno (the land of eternal sleep)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velvet. Velvet drags against the bare arms of his forearms, and for the life of him, he can’t figure out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings**  
>  Suicidal ideation (even if a suicide attempt isn't planned or orchestrated), and overall a stunningly terrible mindset for our Skull-chan. He is not doing great. Also, a vague setting implies that the ending is slightly dubious (consent-wise) at the very end. Please skip on down to the notes for specifics.

Skull is a thousand anxieties buzzing around. The world becomes a steady, dullish thing even as he falls into increasingly desperate mania.

He needs to figure out- he wants to-

He wants to not _exist_. If it was possible to crawl into your own rib cage and curl up under it, he’s done it. He’s beginning to retreat into himself, and he can feel the hours slipping by. He’ll wake up, blink, and the sun would be setting. He’s falling apart and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

He feels helpless. He feels useless and unmoored and taking a flying leap from a high place shouldn’t sound so goddamn _tempting_ but there’s this resounding numbness and he can’t help but _want_. He wants so much, too much, and then the guilt of being stuck in the situation compounds until he stops looking in the mirror, until he stops getting out of bed, until the food begins to taste like dirt in his mouth.

Time is slipping away, he is slipping away, and he (distantly) feels the seasons shifting.

He can’t feel the sheets on his skin, can’t feel the water around him. He’s floating, isn’t he? He’s floating and he wants to land, wants to settle down and accept, but then again, what if he just slips under the water and just...

What if he curls up under his sheets and stops breathing and just...

Stops?

ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ⁻

ʷ͐̈́̐ᵃ̿͑͝ⁿ͌̿̈́ⁿ̐͐͝ᵃ́̿́ ˢ̀̈́͝ᵗ̈́͊ᵒ̽͆ᵖ͛͘̚, ʷ͒͛ᵃ̾͝ⁿ͊̾̿ⁿ͋͒͊ᵃ̓͆́ ˢ̐̾̐ᵗ̒͑͒ᵒ̓̽͐ᵖ͑͐͝

ʷ̴͕͚͚͊͋̽ᵃ̴͕͍͌͘ⁿ̸͎̪͋̿ⁿ̴̞̫͔͌͆͌ᵃ̸̼͉͉͌̿͝ ˢ̴͚̫͔͌͊̚ᵗ̸̫͙̪́̚͘ᵒ̸̡̦͚͛͝͝ᵖ̴͔̼͕͐̕ ʷ̵͎̦͕͆͐͝ᵃ̵̞̪̒͛͜͝ⁿ̴͎̘̘̿͝ⁿ̸̦̘͎̈́̽͋ᵃ̵̦̪͓̀̕͘ ˢ̴̢͙͔͌̽̐ᵗ̸̻͎̘͌͘ᵒ̵̦͚̙͐̾̀ᵖ̴͍͍̟̐̒͠

ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ‧

He _disappears._

Warm hands touch him, and he doesn’t have enough energy to push them off. Warm hands help him up against the wooden headboard, and he can barely feel the wood against his spine

Warm hands they stroke against his cheekbones.

They burn against his skin, and he can barely muster up enough energy to open his eyes. He doesn’t know if he wants to press into the feeling, or hiss and jump back.

Velvet. Velvet drags against the bare arms of his forearms, and for the life of him, he can’t figure out why.

Fingertips trace around his eyes, and everything is blurry and his mouth is dry, dry as a desert. Why is it dry?

The person is saying something, but he feels like he’s underwater, and everything is thick and blurry and he wants to lay down again.

The person says something, louder, and he instinctively winces. Because it was supposed to hurt, even if it really felt like a distant drum or the crackle of thunder. Not quite important to him, and even if it was, he couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t bring himself to care, even if he wanted to.

And then he’s in the air, and if he felt less like a marionette on a string, he might’ve tried to get out of their grasp. But his wrists felt limp and his neck rolls back, dizzyingly.

Warm hands and cool ribbons carry him, and his eyes slack. He can see everything in a blurry way, and the shades of grey swim around, heavy and sporophoric.

He rested his head against the support because it was there and he could.

There’s this distant river, water flowing around him, but he’s not a person yet, and only people worry about things like rain or being washed away by rivers. He wasn’t a person, and he didn’t care one way or another.

The deep sound came from the support, and Skull could barely press his ear to the source, a deep rumbling thing. He surmised it was probably a voice, of a person, but his brain fizzled out before he could get to the logical conclusion.

The air move around him and soft fingers unwrapped his blanket from around him, like petals on a flower. Dolls stay still, and so, he did as well.

The deep voice again. It sounded nice, if in a distant way. He curled closer.

His skin felt cold, and he shivered. Something wet touched his skin, and he sank into it. The voice said something once again, but he paid no mind except to sink in further into the wet pond. He slid down, aided by the smooth stone at his back and the wetness reached higher and higher til it touched his collarbones, and he made a movement to continue _slipping_ , but the warmth was a feverishly tight grip around his shoulders.

He didn’t care, and he let them hold him up as he closed his eyes once more.

He wakes up, curled around something warm and heavy, and lilac hair is the first thing to greet his vision. He’s curled up around them, naked except for fresh white sheets wrapped around himself almost artfully.

He watches silently as misty blue flames seep from the hand on his chest, and the effect is akin to cold water slowly being poured on top of bare skin.

He feels cold, and his back prickles with a distinct sense of _danger_.

Realistically, he’s just reacting to Viper, which is not a comforting conclusion. He’s panicking deep, deep down, and promises himself this will be revisited later. He’ll have more time to be afraid and truly scared instead of being numb.

The more present part of him, the part of him that presses into Viper’s touch, that curls up around them, just wants to feel something.

His eyelids are heavy, but he stares up at them, to the exposed parts of their face. Time feels almost frozen, with the curtains pulled back and the room being lit a soft orange. Viper’s usual dark robes have been replaced with a lighter, softer lavender version, and their spare hand pets his hair.

He closes his eyes. And _slips_.

He comes back to warm hands, and Viper is hovering over them. They’re murmuring something to him, voice deep and husky. He wants to sink into it, wants to let it flow past him like background noise.

It takes him a while to focus on their voice and truly understand. Even then, he’s fading in and out.

“…the only…Verde…recover….” He makes a move to open his eyes, give them his full attention, but they’re just so heavy, so heavy that he feels like he’ll be crushed under their weight, and maybe that’s what he wants. Maybe he wants to…maybe he wants...

“…sorry…” He distantly picks that out from the flow of words, but he doesn't have too long to consider what that could mean, as Viper presses their lips to his a heartbeat later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings**  
>  Skull is highly mentally ill and has somewhat regressed into catatonia. Viper kisses him, but the implication is that this is something a) suggested by Verde as a means of treatment (because flame bonds/anchoring/touch starvation) and b) the only way Viper can keep him from blanking out again.
> 
> ### Chapter Notes
> 
> Ah. A clusterfuck, really. If you feel sorry for Skull, be aware. Shit will get worse. Not now, probably, because things are going to get a bit better from here on out, but still. Viper kissing Skull isn't because they want to take advantage of him sexually, but because part of the reason Skull is slipping out is a) Curse and b) because flame bonds do need to be reinforced. Skull, at this point, hadn't left his room properly in weeks, and has been slowly losing his mind. The kiss isn't for sex (not yet, at least) but because Viper kind of wants him to snap out of it.
> 
> This is super short, btw. And I've read some really lovely comments from you all, and they make me so happy! I'll be responding individually soon though :D
> 
> Love you.

**Author's Note:**

> The premise of this is basically that the curse doesn't turn the Arcobalenos into children. But the curse isn't nicer either, it's just slightly different. They still can't age, but their lives are linked together unevenly. Basically, Skull is their tether to the living world, so if Skull dies, they all die as well. It might also destroy the world. So they are very, very invested in keeping Skull alive and healthy.
> 
> So Skull lives with each of them at different parts of the year, and he isn't allowed to do risky things anymore. He's basically a very depressed wife, honestly, and this is really about the evolution of their relationships to him and how they become healthier/less fucked up. 
> 
> There's also the porn, I guess.


End file.
